The Feral Smurf
by SyncTheMutantJackal
Summary: This will be starring my fan-character, Feral Smurf. The Smurf Village is a peaceful place. It is home to Papa Smurf and a whole horde of little Smurflings of varying ages. But, what happens when one of the youngsters is different from the others? Will they accept her, or will she be witness to just how unsmurfy Smurflings can be? The prologue was hard to do. Forgive me. s
1. Prologue

The Feral Smurf

_In a quiet glade some distance from the Smurf village, each and every one of the Smurfs had gathered. For on this night of the blue moon, the youngest of them would receive her name. _

_The small Smurfette was tightly bundled against the night air's chill. Even if it had been midsummer, Papa Smurf would have still kept the babe wrapped up. For this young Smurfette was far different than any of her vast family. In all the books pertaining to Smurfs, there was nothing telling of a Smurf like this. Indeed, Papa Smurf had scanned every book he could get his hands on for such a thing as this. The nearest he could find was of some sort of mutation which caused longer tails and larger ears among Smurfs. Even that was nothing like this. _

_Placing the innocent babe on the mushroom, he stepped back to await the crucial moment to occur. Every Smurf held their breath in anticipation. In reality, all except Papa Smurf were still considered Smurflings. This meant that they had yet to reach adulthood. Even so, they were still quite a bit older than their female counterpart on the mushroom. The babe upon the mushroom squirmed about for a moment before sitting up. The blanket was so tightly wrapped about her that it clung to her body even as she did so. The babe looked about, clearly puzzled as to why all the others were looking at her so expectantly. _

_Moments later, a pool of the blue moon's light fell upon the young Smurfling. She looked upward, and was momentarily blinded by the moon's gleam. As if on some silent cue, she began to move her lips. She looked out at her gathered family, mouth working to form a word. She flapped her arms, and wiggled her nose, all the while trying to spout that special first word. The babe halted all motions, apparently feeling the moon's effect in full. She bit her lip and scowled, but otherwise remained entirely still. _

"_G…Guh…" _

_The group of onlookers leaned forward in anticipation. _

"_GRRRR!" The babe suddenly squalled, nearly toppled off the mushroom from the sound's magnitude._

_Righting herself, the babe looked expectantly at her audience. Her audience gave no response to her outburst as they mulled over the puzzling 'word'. _

"_Grrr?" She inquired, tilted her head. She was clearly as puzzled as her family, yet it was for a far different reason._

"_Grrr!" She cried. Perhaps they hadn't heard?_

_The surrounding Smurflings all turned to stare at their leader and fatherly figure, Papa Smurf. He appeared a bit dumbstruck. What on earth could he name this babe? Despite his attempts, nothing was coming to mind. He did his best to recall any trait's the babe had exhibited from the time it arrived up to now._

"_I, uh…." Papa Smurf approached the babe, who giggled and said 'Grr!' as he did so. Lifting her from her pedestal, he studied her. He turned to face the onlookers. "My little Smurflings, there is something about this little one you should know." Saying this, he began to unwind the babe's wrapping. Of course, she was wearing a diaper and little dress underneath it. The entire cluster of Smurflings gasped in unison as she was fully revealed. She looked like every other Smurf babe, except for one huge difference. This innocent babe had a bushy fox tail and large ears. She flicked said tail, squealing in delight. _

"_Now, now, my little Smurflings, even though she's different, I would like you to treat her kindly. She doesn't know she's different, and it isn't her fault that she is. It's a type of genetic mutation that has made her this way." _

"_I hate genetic mutations," Grouchy Smurfling grumbled with his ever present scowl and pout. _

"_Golly, Papa. Can't you do anything for her?" Handy Smurfling asked, eyes still wide with surprise. _

"_I'm afraid I can't, Handy. Without her… additions she may be unable to survive. If it were possible to change her, I would, but it just isn't safe for her," Papa Smurf replied. He forced a short chuckle, "And, who knows? She might like being the way she is!" _

"_But, Papa, what're we gonna call 'er?" Farmer Smurfling asked in his Southern accent. _

_Turning her to face him, Papa Smurf regarded the babe for a few moments. The little thing had begun to shiver. Even so, a bright smile was stretched across her slightly pudgy face. It was at this point Papa Smurf noticed something that had previously escaped his attention. In flowing letters along her left arm, a single word was present. It read 'Feral'. It seemed whoever had sent this precious bundle had known the trouble the Smurfs, Papa in particular, would have naming her. Upon seeing this, Papa Smurf found the name he had been searching for. _

"_From now on, she will be known as Feral Smurfling!" He announced, a smile playing across his features. _

_The nearly named Feral Smurfling (later 'Feral Smurf') squealed with delight, tail wagging. Her dark blue eyes caught the light, and reflected it, making them sparkle like twin sapphires. At last, the young Smurfling had her name. _


	2. Conflict

A large group of Smurflings went charging through the village. A smurf-ball bounced along ahead of them. Whenever it slowed, a white-clad foot would shoot out from the crowd, and send it shooting off ahead. In the midst of the turmoil was Feral Smurfling. Despite being small in stature, she was quick on her feet. As the ball rolled to a halt a short ways ahead, Feral put on a swift burst of speed. The other Smurflings kept pace with her only due to being her elders by a few years. Had they been the same age, it was almost certain Feral would have outrun them. Either way, Feral managed to reach the ball first. Aiming a kick at the round object, Feral intended to send it flying off to the smurfberry fields. Of course, she couldn't really kick it that far, but she would try. Just as her foot connected with the ball, one of the larger Smurflings knocked into her. The action sent Feral sprawling in the dirt. Having been so close behind her, the other Smurflings had no other alternative but to trip over the downed Smurfling.

With that, the entire procession came tumbling to a halt. A few of the Smurflings near the back managed to stay on their feet, but even they barely managed that. Feral Smurfling found herself buried at the very bottom of a very large, very heavy pile of Smurflings. She squealed with surprise and slight pain. The squeal and the following shouts of anger were enough to draw Papa Smurf from the depths of his house (which doubled as a lab).

"My Smurfness!" He exclaimed, eyes wide at the sight of all his beloved Smurflings in such a heap. "What is smurfing on out here?"

"_Feral _tripped us!" Tracker Smurfling spat, accusingly.

"Yeah!" At least a dozen other youngsters cried, adding to the commotion.

"Will you _please _smurf off me!" Feral cried from the base of the pile.

"Feral! How on smurf did you smurf down there?" Papa Smurf asked, genuinely surprised.

"I'm not sure…" was Feral's response.

The other Smurflings began to scramble off the younger family member. Only a few uttered apologies. The rest of them grumbled at her to watch where she was going next time. Needless to say, the words did sting. Feral couldn't help feeling hurt that her family would treat in her such a way. But, it couldn't be helped. She put on a brave smile, and got up. After ensuring that his little Smurfling was alright, Papa Smurf had disappeared back into his lab.

As Feral Smurfling brushed herself off, she couldn't help but notice the whisperings of the other Smurflings. Of course, her large fox ears made her able to hear far more than any normal Smurf. Some of the things she heard, she honestly wished she hadn't. It wasn't the least bit enjoyable to hear how the other Smurflings grumbled about her. After a few minutes, however, the large group of Smurflings moved on in such of the ball. Above the shuffle of moving feet and general chatter, Tracker's voice rose.

"Stupid Feral! First she trips us, then she makes us go smurf the ball!"

The majority of the Smurflings agreed with Tracker, as many nodded and stated their

approval of the remark. The 'stupid' part was especially praised. In response, Feral flattened her ears, and whimpered, tucking her tail between her legs. Clearly upset, the little Smurfling wandered back towards the mushroom house she shared with a few of the other Smurflings.

Upon reaching said mushroom, Feral shoved on the door, intending to push it open. There was a sharp squeal from inside, but the door didn't budge. Feral sighed, it had taken many moves to get this mushroom. All the other Smurflings she had stayed with were absolutely awful to her. After multiple tear-filled ventures to Papa Smurf's house in the middle of the night, they had finally found a house where Feral was a bit more comfortable. She was currently housed with three other Smurflings, one of which was inside with the door bolted.

"Um, Scaredy? Would you mind opening the door?" Feral called, softly, to the other Smurfling.

Much shuffling was heard, accompanied by the sound of a sliding bolt, before Scaredy's terrified face peaked around the door. When he saw who it was, however, he looked rather ashamed of himself.

"O-oh, F-Feral! I-I-It's only you!" The skittish Smurfling sounded absolutely relieved.

"Yeah, just me," was Feral's simple response. "Can I smurf in now?"

"O-o-of c-course!" Upon saying that, Scaredy proceeded to open the door, though, his hands shook as he did so.

Feral slipped in through the overly small gap between the edge of the door and the doorframe. What Scaredy was so terrified of was beyond her knowledge. Of course, no one except Scaredy himself knew what it was that he was so petrified by. Many times, Feral had discovered the small Smurfling awake in the middle of the night. The other was shaking as if it was freezing, yet, Feral knew it was fear that made him shake so.

She was, abruptly, jolted out of her thoughts when Scaredy slammed the door shut, bolting it firmly. She glanced over her shoulder at her quivering companion. Feral's gaze tracked Scaredy as he scampered across the room, and dove beneath the blankets that rested on his bed. She shook her head with a small sigh. Of all the Smurfs in Smurf Village, she got along with very few. Scaredy was one of them. After all, he was too scared to ever be mean to her. Other than that, Feral severely doubted he even had a mean bone in his body. The second Smurfling who she got along with was, surprisingly, Grouchy Smurfling. The other Smurfling was, as his name hinted, grouchy. He never had a nice thing to say about anyone. But, that was okay with Feral. He treated everyone that way rather than singling her (or anyone else) out for his 'I hate' statements.

The rest of Feral Smurfling's day was spent in the company of Scaredy Smurfling. She managed to coax him out of hiding to play a game of jacks with her. The pair soon got bored of that (or, at least, Feral did), and they began a new game. It was a game Feral thought up on a whim. The game began by having one Smurfling think of a word. Any word would do. The other Smurfling would then have to try guessing what word the other was thinking of. The Smurfling who was the 'guesser' could have as many guesses as they chose. When they gave up, the other would tell them what word they had been thinking of. The game would then begin again with the two Smurfling's changing roles.

The game was interesting for a while, but, as with all games, it got boring. This left Feral in a bit of a predicament. She couldn't think of any more games that could be played indoors. All other games had to be played outside, and neither Smurfling wanted to go out of doors. After some time of neither speaking nor, really, moving, Feral gave up trying to figure out a new game.

"Aw, smurf. I can't think of any good games!" Feral sighed, irritably.

Scaredy shrugged, "I-I-I can't smurf of anything either."

When the door opened, both Smurflings jumped. Scaredy scrambled under his bed in a panic, while Feral flinched, squeaking. The Smurfling standing in the door scowled at both of them. His lower lip was stuck out in a definite pout.

"I hate 'eep'!" Grouchy grumbled. ('Eep' was the sound Feral made.)

"Oh, thank smurfness it's only you!" Feral said, flopping, dramatically, onto her back.

"I hate 'thank smurfness'!" The other grouched, slamming the door, and storming over to his bunk. The irritable Smurfling plunked himself onto the bed, arms crossed.

"Bad day?"

"I hate Tracker Smurfling!" Grouchy snapped in reply.

Tracker. So, he was at it again. Feral considered asking what Tracker had done this time, but thought better of it. It was best to leave Grouchy alone after a hard day dealing with Tracker Smurfling. Tracker had to be the biggest bully in the whole village. Him and Camper, anyway. Tracker was the ringleader, and Camper played the part of his little minion. Lately, his group of minions had been steadily growing, especially when Feral was concerned. He had supporters for his jibes at the half fox/half Smurfling. Not only did Tracker have supporters, but his constant taunts were getting worse. Feral sighed, fox-ears flattened against her brown hair.

A swarm of voices from outside caught her attention. She bounced to her feet, and skittered over to the window. She peered out of the glass circle to see a rather odd sight. Vanity Smurfling, the most vain Smurfling in the entire village, was sitting on the ground. At first glance, he appeared to be just sitting. _But, Vanity would never sit on the ground. He'd be worried about getting his pants all dusty. _Feral thought, continuing to watch as the scene unfolded. Tracker Smurfling's white-clad foot came into few just before he kicked Vanity in the face. The half-fox snarled as the relatively fragile Smurfling was knocked onto his back. The scared Vanity stared up at Tracker, mouth moving although Feral couldn't hear what he was saying. A firm punch in the face shut him up. Feral couldn't take it. Tracker could beat her up all he wanted, but it wasn't fair that he was picking on Vanity. Up until that point, Feral had tolerated everything Tracker did, but no more. She wasn't going to just stand there, and watch Tracker beat up someone.

Feral was out the door, and standing in front of the rather intimidating Tracker Smurfling before she had even thought about what she was about to do. "Tracker, smurf him alone!"

"Awwww, the little fox is finally smurfing up is she?" Tracker jeered, mouth twisted into a nasty grin. Needless to say, the obnoxious Smurfling was entirely taken aback when Feral proceeded to punch him in the mouth. She wasn't the strongest Smurfling to ever exist, but it made a definite impression.

Feral was expecting one hit to be enough to just get him to stop. She wasn't expecting it when his fist connected with her eye. The hit sent her sprawling next to Vanity. The other Smurfling cast her a concerned glance. Seconds later, Feral was yanked off the ground, and held at arm's length by Tracker. He glared at her, face a mask of fury. She cringed shortly before she felt a second blow connect with her face. She felt her lip split, blood trickling from the injury instantaneously. Shockingly, cheers erupted from some members of the audience. The cheers acted like fuel on a fire. Third and fourth hits slammed into Feral's face. With each hit, she could practically feel the bruises that would later decorate her face.

Feral twisted in Tracker's grasp. There was a sharp ripping sound as the front of her clothes tore. The impact of hitting the ground jolted Feral into the present. She flipped onto her back, and, as Tracker bent to retrieve her, delivered a strong kick to his midsection. The larger of the two grunted, face twisting into something resembling a snarl. Recovering, Tracker sent a fist in the direction of Feral's mouth. The hit managed to crack one of Feral's teeth.

Snarling and spitting blood with fury, Feral snapped at her attacker's hand. There was a satisfactory crunch as Tracker's fingers caught between her teeth. Sparks of pain shot through her mouth from her cracked tooth. She struggled against the pain, keeping a firm grip on the other Smurfling's fingers. She growled, shaking her head from side to side. A popping sound was heard as one of Tracker's fingers was dislocated from the motions. Tracker's other fist went careening into Feral's temple. She saw stars as her grip was knocked loose. The world spun before going black when she thumped against the dirt. Head spinning, Feral could just barely process the sound of some of the other Smurflings speaking.

"Is she dead?"

"Oh, smurf, I hope not!"

"Yeah, we'll be smurfed for sure if Tracker killed her!"

The most ominous voice by far was Tracker's. As Feral slipped into unconsciousness, the larger Smurfling bent down to whisper something in her ear.

"You'd better watch yoursmurf, Feral," He snarled, "I won't be forgetting this anytime soon."


	3. Eavesdropping

**(Wrote myself into a bit of a corner with this one. Excuse that, please.)**

Feral squirmed, opening her eyes slowly, yet surely. She glanced around, surprised to find herself safely tucked away in her bed. As she glanced towards the center of the room, she was more than a bit surprised to see a group of Smurflings gathered. When the group had noticed that Feral was awake, they emitted a collective sigh of relief. Apparently, they really had thought she was dead. Lucky for them, Papa Smurf was away visiting Homnibus. If he had witnessed the fight between herself and Tracker, there would have been trouble.

"Golly, Feral! We thought you was dead fer sure!" Clumsy Smurfling's voice piped up from somewhere near the back of the group. A few Smurflings shot him nervous glances, clearly having hoped Feral would have suffered some sort of memory loss after the ordeal.

No, Feral's memory was in perfect working order. The last few moments before she fell unconscious came rushing back, making her heard throb. Tracker's threat brought a scowl to her face. For a moment, she wondered if the aggressive Smurfling would make good on his threat. That's stupid, Feral. Of course he will. It was true. All the other Smurflings that had been on the receiving end of one of Tracker's threats had certainly got what he had promised. Whether it was a punch in the face or a kick in the head, Tracker made sure it happened. Feral's scowl deepened as she made an attempt at rising from the confines of the bed. Her head throbbed as she did so, forcing her to lie back down. She growled something under her breath, causing nearly the entire group of onlookers to lean forward. One of them opened his mouth to ask what she had said, but Feral beat him to the punch. Figuratively speaking of course.

"Help me up!" The half-fox Smurfling shouted, clearly aggravated. Not only was she in pain, but she also had a natural hatred of being confined for any amount of time. No, she wasn't claustrophobic. It was the fox part of her that hated confinement.

She watched with satisfaction as two of the Smurflings scrambled to help her up. Standing up to Tracker must have made more of an impression on the other Smurflings than Feral had previously thought. No matter what effect the confrontation had had on the others, Feral wasn't sure if she was glad she had done so or not. She doubted it had made a positive affect on Tracker. If anything, it had made the temperamental Smurfling even more hostile towards her.

As the other Smurflings aided Feral in getting to her feet, the injured Smurfling could feel the headache getting progressively worse. By the time she was fully standing, the room was spinning and spots danced before her eyes. She groaned, ears swiveling about, catching the nervous whisperings of the others. She clenched one hand into a fist, determined to put on a brave face. The world flickered to black for a moment before fading back to normal. During the partial black out, Feral's headache had momentarily dissipated. Now, it returned in full force. But Feral had a good deal of ingrained in her being, and one measly headache wasn't going to keep her bedridden. She cleared her throat, and squared her shoulders. As she did so, Scaredy approached, entire body quaking.

"F-Feral," The timid Smurfling began, "V-V-Vanity had a m-message for y-you. H-He want-ted to say 't-thanks' for saving his s-smurf."

A small smile graced Feral's face. She really wouldn't have minded if Vanity didn't thank her, but it certainly made her feel better hearing that he had. If anything, that made the cuts and bruises a bit more worth the trouble. Speaking of which, why hadn't Vanity come to thank her himself? The first idea that crossed her mind was that he was getting his injuries tended. Maybe they had been worse than she'd thought? How long had Tracker been giving him that beating before she saw? From what she remembered, Vanity really hadn't been that much worse for wear. Then it came to her. Of course, Vanity would be back at his mushroom so he could see what the damage was, and fret over bruises. Her smiled, which had slipped at one point, returned. Purposefully, she went striding over to the door, wrenched it open, and set off to find Vanity.

"Where are you smurfing off to, Feral?" Handy's voice sounded from somewhere behind her.

"I'm going to go find Vanity!"

As she made her way along the well worn paths through the village, she made sure to keep an ear pricked for signs of Tracker. Fortunately, she didn't see (or hear) hide nor hair of Tracker Smurfling. Most likely, he was skulking around somewhere, plotting his next assault on Feral. For the time being, Feral's game plan was relatively simple. Stay out of Tracker's way until her injuries mended. Then, once she had entirely healed, she would be ready to confront Tracker again. Well, hopefully she wouldn't need to do so again. But with Tracker no one could really ever tell what he would do next.

Feral's destination was in sight by the time she finished the bulk of her pondering. She quickened her pace, eager to speak with Vanity. She wasn't sure why she felt the need to do so, but the best she could guess was that she wanted him to know she appreciated the 'thank you'. As she neared the mushroom house, she could just barely catch the sound of voices. She slowed her pace, and, quietly, took up position below one of the two windows. She perked her ears, doing her best to make sense of the half-muffled words that came from the other side of the wall. She cowered as one of the voices came drastically closer to the window. The curtains that were located on every window in the village were drawn, hiding the sneaky Feral from view.

"Are ya sure yer alright, Van'ty?" From the distinct accent, Feral determined that the voice belonged to Farmer. That wasn't unusual, the two did share the mushroom house together. Of course, they weren't the only ones there. Two other Smurflings whose names had slipped Feral's mind also resided there.

"I'm sure, Farmer. Really, he didn't hurt me too badly," From the tone of Vanity's voice, which was slightly exasperated, it was obvious this wasn't the first time Farmer had asked him that.

"When I get my hand's on that smurfing Tracker, I'll-"

"Farmer! Shush!" Vanity scolded. He didn't sound angry. To be honest, he sounded… concerned? Yes, that would be the word to describe the half veiled emotion within Vanity's tone.

"I'm sorry, Van'ty, I jus' cain't help it…." Farmer heaved a heavy sigh, feet scuffing across the floor as he made his way away from the window.

Feral skittered backwards, body still pressed close to the ground. Her face was twisted with confusion. Farmer was always protective of Vanity, that much was true. Of course, no one really understood why. Perhaps it was just because Vanity was Farmer's main target? Yeah, that's it. After all, Papa Smurf says we're supposed to treat each other like family, right? Farmer's just worried that Tracker will hurt Vanity real badly. Don't worry, Farmer. You aren't gonna be the only one looking after Vanity. I'll help too.

Satisfied that Vanity was okay, Feral decided to show her appreciation for his 'thank you' tomorrow. After all, it was getting a bit late. The sun was starting to set, causing pink hues to mingle with the sky's normal blue. Feral quietly backed away from the mushroom house. As she scurried off back to her own home, she discovered that she had gotten out of there just in time. She could hear the voices of Dreamy Smurfling and Flying Smurfling approaching. Ah, that was it. Those were the two who shared a home with Vanity and Farmer. If she remembered right, Feral thought that those four had gotten along fairly well. It made sense that Papa Smurf would house them together.

Feral pushed open the door to her own home, relieved to find that it wasn't bolted for once. As she shut the door behind her, Feral made sure to slide the bolt into place. The other Smurflings who inhabited the mushroom were gathered in a half circle on the floor. Handy Smurfling motioned her to take a seat next to him, which Feral did without a second thought. She gave them all expectant glances, clearly waiting to be informed about why they had called on of their 'meetings' as they called them.

"We were talking about you standing up to Tracker…" Handy remarked, looking towards Grouchy and Scaredy who both nodded in agreement.

"Oh, really? What, uh, what about it?" Feral asked, tail flicking in minor agitation.

"We thought it was real brave, you standin' up to Tracker, and all," Grouchy's said, having one of the rare moments were he lost a bit of his grumpiness. In Feral's opinion, Grouchy always sounded as if he had a bit of a lingering cold. His voice had a slight rasp to it which she found interesting. Was that what saying 'I hate' so much could do to a Smurfling? No, that was silly.

"Thanks. Really, thanks."

The other Smurflings, except for Grouchy, naturally, cracked brief smiles. A loud yawn from Handy, followed by one from Scaredy, signaled that bedtime was at hand. Without another word spoken, the four Smurflings made their way towards their respective bunks. Feral clambered up the short ladder to the top bunk, while Scaredy crawled into the lower bunk. Feral glanced down at Scaredy, a bright smile stretching across her face.

"Night, Scaredy!" She said, softly.

"N-Night, H-Handy!" Scaredy said to Handy who was bunked directly across from him on the other bunk.

"Night, Grouchy!" Handy called, softly, up to Grouchy.

"I hate 'night'!" Grouchy snapped in reply. Seconds later, Grouchy glanced over at Feral, saying, "Night, Feral…"


	4. Caught RedMouthed?

**(WARNING: This chapter contains blood.) **

Bright light against her face woke Feral. She blinked a few times, adjusting her eyes to compensate for the blinding light. Her face twisted a bit as she yawned, stretching her features in all manner of odd angles. The tip of her tongue curled with the action, an occurrence quite common among canines. As her mouth drifted close, Feral cast a glance at her comrades. The other three Smurflings were still fast asleep. She blinked, sleepily. It took a few minutes before Feral managed to force her way up, and out of bed. Even then, it was a mix of slithering and grumbling before she was standing beside the bed. She looked at the bed, and had to resist the temptation to crawl back beneath the warm covers.

She stretched, tail sticking out behind her as she did so. It had been a week or so since she had initially challenged Tracker. There had been a rather unnerving lack of activity on the bully's part since then. Of course, Tracker still went about his daily chores, and the like as did every Smurfling. Still, he hadn't caused anyone any grief for the duration of the week. Well, there had been one incident when he had shoved Vanity into a mud puddle that the Smurflings had made themselves, but Papa Smurf had been there when it happened. As usual, he made Tracker apologize, not that the Smurfling meant it. No matter how many times Papa Smurf had Tracker apologize for his wrong-doings, everyone knew he didn't mean it. He never had, and he probably never would. So, what was the use of trying? It could have been because Papa Smurf hated dishing out severe discipline to any of his Smurflings. Perhaps he thought they were too young to take such punishments? Either way, it didn't matter. Tracker would carry on being Tracker, and Papa Smurf would continue to be altogether too soft Papa Smurf.

Ah, yes. Feral did think that their beloved Papa was a bit too soft dealing out his punishments. No, that wasn't right. Feral thought he was _entirely _too soft with his punishments. What kind of punishment was making someone apologize, anyway? Not a good one, in her opinion. If she had been leader, she would've made sure Tracker was really, truly sorry he'd done wrong. She would've made him to the other Smurfling's chores for a week, or swatted him with a switch, or _something. _How would any of them ever learn to respect the elder Smurf if he never made them respect him? That was exactly what Feral was going to do to Tracker. She was going to make him respect her, and everyone else.

You see, during the week of cease-fire between Tracker and the other Smurflings, Feral had nothing to do but sit, and mull over all the nasty things Tracker had done. Not just the one she had confronted him for, but all of them. In her way of thinking, Tracker needed to pay for it. He'd bullied them all for far too long, and it was time he got what was coming to him. Yes, it was rather nasty (and in a way, wishful) thinking, but Feral thought it all the same.

When Feral changed into her everyday clothes that morning behind the divider (after all, it wouldn't have _exactly _have been appropriate to change in front of the opposite sex), she couldn't help reflecting, once more, on all of Tracker's wrong-doings. As she walked to the kitchen that morning to see what Greedy Smurfling had cooked up for breakfast, she thought about it again. Grouchy, who was walking a few paces behind her, noticed her tail bristling.

"I hate tail bristling!" He grumped, startling Feral.

"Gah! Why are you looking there anyway?" After being startled, that was the best response she could come up with.

"Well, you have to admit, Feral, it's a bit hard to notice," Handy stated, cautiously. Scaredy nodded his agreement.

Feral glanced over her shoulder, attempting to see her tail. Truthfully, she didn't have any trouble seeing her tail. Face it, it was bright red, and massively bushy. Who wouldn't notice that? They were right, and it nearly infuriated Feral more to know this. She needed someone to yell at right now, but her friends hadn't done anything to deserve it. Instead, she settled for grumbling out an apology.

"Sorry, guys. I just… don't know what smurfed over me."

By then, the kitchen was in sight. Feral quickened her pace, eager to rid herself of her perfectly horrible mood among the sea of Smurflings. As she pushed open the door, delicious odors wafted towards her. She could hardly resist drooling. Drooling? She wiped her mouth with the back of her hand. She _was_ drooling! That was… new. She had never drooled before. Well, excluding when she was a baby because that didn't count. The agitated Smurfling skittered off to grab something to eat before someone noticed her predicament.

Even as she sat down between Brainy and Vanity, the drooling didn't cease. The two shot her nervous glances, easily catching sight of the vast amounts of drool that were dripping from Feral's mouth. She wiped at her mouth again, and sent apologetic looks in the directions of both Smurflings. Before the drooling could get out of hand, she quickly took a bite of breakfast. She took a few more bites before discovering that eating was most certainly _not _helping the problem. Instead, it was making it worse. Drool dribbled down Feral's chin, and dripped onto her clothes. Vanity looked relatively disgusted while Brainy… Oddly enough Brainy couldn't think of anything to say. The ridiculously intelligent Smurfling adjusted his glasses, and swiftly averted his gaze.

"Hey, Drooly Smurfling!"

Feral cringed at the voice. Tracker. Papa Smurf was late for breakfast. He'd probably been up all night. It was a common fact that the Smurflings often had nightmares, and who better to soothe a terrified Smurfling than their own Papa? Some of Tracker's partners in crime had probably even faked nightmares for the sake of allowing Tracker an unhindered confrontation. A glass of some cold, wet, and red tinted substance cascaded over Feral's head. The growl that rumbled in the back of her throat along with her drooling made Feral look absolutely insane. This was the exact thing she had needed. What better way to release pent up energy than pummeling some bully.

Feral scrambled to her feet, stepping over the bench that she had been seated on. Tracker took an uncertain step backwards, clearly taken aback by the, for lack of a better word, feral appearance of his target for today. Her tail bristled, furthering her display of aggression. She felt a sharp pain in the back of her neck, causing her to flinch a bit. Tracker, taking this as a sign of weakness, charged towards her, fist raised. Needless to say, he was entirely taken by surprise when his opponent suddenly vanished, sending him sailing into the table. Dishes and cups shattered on impact, some because he had landed on them, and others from toppling off the table.

Vanity and Brainy let out similar squeals as they dove out of the way of an enraged Tracker. It was then that Tracker noticed just where his target had gone. She hadn't disappeared at all. Rather than being faced by a salivating Smurfling, a bristling miniature red fox had taken her place. The deep, blue-gray eyes that glowered at him from the fox's face betrayed who it was, or had been. Feral Smurfling.

Feral's pelt was standing on end as she snapped her jaws, daring the other to make a move. Even with her ears flattened against her skull, she could hear the startled gasps of the onlookers. Her skin still tingled from the transformation. It was the first time this had happened, but she wasn't complaining. Tracker regained his courage, and made another charge at Feral, this time swinging low. The fox growled, taking a few steps back. She lunged at what she believed to be the right time.

It wasn't quite right, however, and instead of striking his face, Feral's fangs end up embedded in Tracker's upper arm. She had missed her intended target yet still struck flesh. The other Smurfling emitted a shout of pain as the fox went to work tearing at his arm. Now that Feral had had the taste of blood, she wasn't stopping. In fact, the fox was verging on no longer being Feral. The part of her that was still a Smurfling had been replaced by the fury of a cornered fox. She wasn't thinking like a Smurfling any longer. The fox had taken over, and the fox would have its way. A sharp clout to the side of her head, knocked Feral for a loop. She found herself on the ground halfway beneath one of the benches. Smurflings scattered in her wake.

Feral was far from backing down. She could see the blood dripping off his arm, and could taste it decorating her jaws. Rather than sending her running with her tail between her legs, the blow had only heightened her rage. Feral's lithe frame hurtled towards her attacker, a flurry of blows postponed the attack for a bit longer. Now, the roles had changed. Tracker was going for self-defense hits while Feral had taken the only other available option. Offensive. The fox lunged, and snapped at Tracker's flying fists. He clipped her in the mouth more than one time, but she was determined. The next strike was the last either had a chance to make. Feral's snapped at the end of Tracker's nose, feeling her teeth break the skin.

"Smurfess me! What's smurfing on in here?"

The two who had been battling it out moments before came screeching to a halt. Tracker at least tried to look innocent. But Feral, however, had no shame. She was defending herself, and the other Smurflings against this menace, and no matter of punishment would make her forget. By now the Smurfling side of her had returned, the fox half being startled into submission at the sound of Papa Smurf's voice. She watched the adult standing in the doorway, arms crossed.

"Well? Is _somesmurf _going to explain what's going on?" Papa Smurf asked, glaring at the two standing before him.

"Well, Feral," Tracker began, pointing accusingly at the fox, "Attacked me for no reason!"

"That's _Feral_?" Papa Smurf sounded genuinely surprised.

"Yes, Papa Smurf. It's me," Feral said. Her voice sounded odd. There was a slight growl mingled with an odd rasp. Both could be attributed to her transformation.

It took a few moments before anyone spoke, and when someone did, it was Papa Smurf.

"Whatever this was about, you shouldn't have been fighting. I am ashamed of both of you for causing such harm to one another."

"I'm sorry, Feral. I don't know why I did it," Tracker said, faking yet another apology.

Feral was quiet for a few moments before she growled, "You dirty liar…"

"Feral!" Papa Smurf scolded, "You must apologize to Tracker this instant!"

"Papa Smurf, you don't understand! It was Tracker! He-" Feral protested.

"Feral, you should not blame your own mistakes on others," Papa Smurf responded, cutting off Feral.

"But-"

"No 'but's! Apologize!"

"I'm not going to apologize to him!" Feral spat, earning a gasp from the gathered Smurflings.

"Feral, I-"

"No, no, no! I won't apologize to him! I won't! I won't! I won't!" the fox barked. Foxes aren't the best at barking, so the sound was more of a harsh yap. It sounded somewhat similar to a dog trying to bark while being hoarse. It wasn't a pleasant sound by any means.

Before Papa Smurf or any of the other Smurflings could stop her, Feral darted out of the kitchen. Without knowing it, Feral found herself heading back towards her home. She hadn't noticed before, but the tooth she had broken in her previous fight with Tracker was absolutely killing her now. Something about the heat of battle had made all thoughts of pain seem obsolete. She whimpered as she felt herself change back into her normal self. She shoved open the door, slamming it shut behind her. At the moment, she didn't want to deal with anyone. The simple act of sliding the bolt on the door shut was enough to prevent anyone from getting in. The frustrated little Smurfling yanked the curtains closed, hiding herself from the outside world to the best of her ability. With an aching tooth, and head in general, Feral huddled up in the corner with a bed sheet for comfort. Her mouth was still coated in a layer of blood, and her own blood was also present in a few places. Mostly it was just bruises. Tracker's blows had been misplaced enough that only a few places had received hits hard enough to draw blood. To top it off, Tracker was used to fighting Smurflings, not foxes.

Feral raised a hand to touch her still broken tooth. Even touching it caused an intense wave of pain. Throughout the week, the tooth had been incredibly sensitive. Now, it was practically unbearable. Worst of all, it was one of Feral's canine teeth. That made it an even larger loss than if it had been a front or side tooth. (Being part fox, Feral's teeth were more pointed, and fox-like.) She whimpered once more. The sound of footsteps outside caused her to snuggle farther into the corner. Above the sea of voices she could distinctly hear Papa Smurf. He sounded distressed, but, at the moment, Feral could care less. It didn't matter what they thought. It didn't matter at all.

The throbbing in her tooth was driving her practically crazy by now. She got to her feet, and fished around under Handy's bed. It didn't take long before she found what she was looking for. Handy's toolbox. As well as the belt filled with tools that he normally wore, he also kept a toolbox filled to the brim with useful tools beneath his bed. Feral rummaged around in said toolbox for a few moments before, triumphantly, retrieving a set of pliers. She smirked. _This'll fix my tooth for sure! _Feral opened her mouth wide, setting the pliers, firmly, around the large canine tooth with a crack down the middle. She cringed, hands shaking, at the fresh bolts of pain that shot through her mouth. A few moments passed as Feral made sure the pliers weren't going to slip off her tooth. The Smurfling let out a small yelp as she gave a yank on the broken tooth. She dropped the pliers as the tooth suddenly released. The tooth popped free, sending blood pulsing through her mouth. She placed a hand over her mouth, trying to contain the blood welling from the hole in her gum. Feral's opened the eyes she had shut during the procedure. In the center of the round rug that decorated the floor sat two halves of a tooth. Fortunately, the roots of the tooth were still intact. This meant that the tooth had come out clean rather than leaving the roots behind. Had this happened, Feral most likely would have ended up with some manner of infection. If the infection went untreated, it would've had the potential to kill her.

Feral glared at the door which was currently being assaulted by numerous Smurflings who were trying to get in. They were probably just trying to help Papa Smurf. She got to her feet, and started towards the door. She slid a second bolt into placed, keeping the door firmly locked. With that, Feral returned to her corner. She huddled back into the blanket she had pulled into the corner. A scowl was present on her face, blood dribbling from the corner of her mouth, the result of her self-performed surgery. She squirmed into a bit more comfortable of a position, and began to plan her next move in the fight against Tracker. Eventually, she would have to speak with Papa Smurf or at least someone about what had happened.

A soft tapping on one of the windows got her attention. She rose, and made her way over to the window. She opened one side of the curtains to see Scaredy's face looking at her from the other side. She couldn't leave him out there. What if Tracker got him? Cautiously, she released the lock on the window, swinging it, quietly, open. As she helped Scaredy in, she noticed Grouchy and Handy standing a short distance away. She sighed before motioning them closer. She helped both of them in through the window, relocking it afterwards. Right now, Feral admitted that she needed someone to talk to. She had some things she needed to get off her chest, and who better to tell than these three? No one that she could think of. Not even Papa Smurf.


End file.
